A VETERANS DAY
( ….as observed in small-town USA)

West Sacramento, CA, isn’t exactly a “small town”, but neither is it like a “big city” environment where the occasion is barely observed. So it was a nice change of pace to go up there from big-city San Francisco to see if that small town community spirit still exists out here on the Left Coast of America. Happily, I can report….it still does.

As a guest of a long time friend and associate, who was being honored by it as a grand marshal for its parade, I found myself with reserved seating at curb side right by the reviewing stand full of military and civic dignitaries, and feeling somewhat out of place by such proximity, for being just another up through the ranks “centurion” with no particular accomplishments to my name, beyond having survived my service relatively unscathed.

That aside, the most enjoyable part of the occasion was seeing how almost the entire community had turned out for it, giving the whole event a real down-home feeling. Something my mid-western roots could really appreciate. Oh, sure, the parade itself wasn’t the highly structured and fancy kind one sees in a major urban setting, but its somewhat informal and laid back flavor was much more entertaining and fun….especially watching how all the kinfolk and friends of those parading, clapped and cheered for them as they came by.

But the most affecting thing about it all was the strong yet not overblown display of pride and appreciation for all veterans who were part of that parade and for those of us who were there alongside it, exchanging solemn salutes with each other. Whether relics of past and nearly forgotten wars, or young ROTC’s of serious men marching by in war-pup style…. showing the war-dog potentials they might yet come to be if ever the future called for it.

Though proud of them for that, an old war-dog like me dreaded the thought of such a thing for them, wishing only that they would never have to face it.

Yet I couldn’t help but wonder at their youth. Were we the same kind of baby-faced infants in our day? I, “an old-man-chief” at 22, with a platoon of bright young war- pups such as these? Well, we have always been, and are, a warrior nation (mostly by circumstance rather than by choice), so perhaps….so were we back then….such is our history.

Under an overcast sky, the parade flowed on by with its other traditional bits of Americana … that is, a college marching band, a scattering of military machines, the most prominent being a surviving Huey gunship, followed by high school contingents of a drum and bugle corps, and several bevies of cheerleaders performing daring acrobatics and eye catching prancing and dancing moves along the way, then, a float full of past and future pageant queens. All of that trailed by local police and firefighters’ engines, EMS crews, an antique stage coach, a troop of horsemen, ending with a lone poop-mobile dutifully scooping up the few equine droppings left in their wake. All in all it was the kind of parade that truly says…. “we’re Amurican….folks!”….as it went on to end at the park for the more serious parts of this occasion.

There, further tradition was observed….the posting of the colors….a trumpet trio rendition of the national anthem (with an interesting tinge of mariachi to it), followed by presentation of honors to various local veteran heroes, and closing the ceremonies with a charming group of girl scouts giving us a rousing chorus of –You’re a Grand Old Flag – who then all scampered off the stage to hand out souvenir cards and bottled water to every veteran within their reach, which brought it all to the most touching moment of the day for me when a most darling little child, barely 8 or 9 years old, was prodded and nudged in my direction by some of her older troop mates.

Not only shy, but obviously fearful of approaching a much too gigantic geriatric T-Rex like me, she finally came close enough to hand me her card and bottled water, whispering a barely audible…thank you for your service – while looking up at me with her big brown eyes still in fearful mode. Not wanting to frighten her even more, I resisted the urge to reach out and give her a proper hug, so I made do with what passed for a benign smile and a gentle – thank you dear – instead. Somehow, that broke the barrier of fear between us, and the happy flashing smile she returned over her shoulder as she scurried away from me….made my day.

So it all ended, as I mingled and chatted with veterans of other eras, even finding a few other stray Korean War ones like me ( we’re rare finds on such occasions, truly “ghost soldiers”). All in all a very gratifying Veterans Day.

Which brings me to this closing thought…. we veterans aren’t just a band of brothers, and sisters. We’re the heart…. and the soul….of our nation.

May it always remember that.

CENTURION